


The Boredom of Dragons

by Jewel2065



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:15:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23246872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jewel2065/pseuds/Jewel2065
Summary: What a Dragonborn might do when the boredom becomes too great.Originally posted on TTH to Manchester's collaboration "The Ladies Are Coming To Sunnydale"Bringers are sent by the First Evil to kill Potentials, but things soon turn strange in an AU multi-crossover when women everywhere of all ages and abilities instead interfere in this slaughter.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	1. The Boredom of Dragons

**Author's Note:**

> The Boredom of Dragons  
> by Jewel
> 
> Posted TTH (The Ladies Are Coming To Sunnydale) 29.07.15
> 
> Manchester's original summary:   
> Bringers are sent by the First Evil to kill Potentials, but things soon turn strange in an AU multi-crossover when women everywhere of all ages and abilities instead interfere in this slaughter.
> 
> The original collaboration can be found here:   
> www.tthfanfic.org/Story-31072/Manchester+The+Ladies+Are+Coming+To+Sunnydale.htm

I am a creature of legend. 

I am Dovahkiin, the Last Dragonborn. 

I am the Defeater of Alduin and the Death of Miraak. 

I am the Destroyer of the Dark Brotherhood and Protector of Skyrim. 

I am the Archmage, and a member of the Bard's College. 

I am the Champion of Meridia and Azura. 

I am a master in every skill in which I have ever been interested.

Despite my human shell I am not human: I cannot be; not any more. I carry within me some four hundred dragonsouls, penned within the net of my own soul. And as my boredom grows, so I feel those dragonsouls ever more strongly, pushing against the soul-net, testing its strength, waiting for the day that they can break free and escape my shell.

And I am so very, very bored. 

After years of constant adventuring, constant travel, constant battle with all manner of foes, I find myself with little to amuse myself and the prospect of potentially a very large number of years ahead of me, since – based on Miraak – my own dragonsoul may well confer the longevity of Dragon-kind, fuelled as it has been by so many kindred spirits.

The Thalmor rarely come out of their hidey-holes; bandits flee when I amble through their territory; and the vampires are almost extinct. The dragons are far too sensible to risk the consequences of preying on anything other than livestock. Most of them have learned the value of commerce and trade treasures or serve as guardians to farms and villages in exchange for a ready supply of meat. 

I haven't had a good fight in months and I've been giving serious thought to making a trip to Atmora or somewhere in the hope of finding something not-boring enough to keep me from becoming a far greater threat than Alduin ever was.

So when I came upon a whirling purplish portal with an odd similarity to the one I used to reach the Soul Cairn – what could I do but check my weapons, and jump right in. Behind me, I heard Durak heave a great sigh before yelling that he'd meet me back at the Dawnguard when I was done being daft.

I emerged into a strange place – a city of close-packed buildings and an unpleasant metallic stench that reminded me rather too much of what happened last time my boredom was unleashed in the alchemy lab. All about there were strange artifacts that looked like – but also utterly unlike – day-to-day things, such things as covered carriages but with no places for the horses' tackle to fasten; and lanterns that glowed brightly but without the flicker expected of firelight. Even the road beneath my feet was unnaturally even, being a smooth black ribbon lacking any sort of cobblestone.

Happily I was swiftly distracted by the sounds of someone running in panic. Looking around I spotted a human girl, maybe 12 years old, unarmed and unarmoured. Behind her were half a dozen black robed dark creatures, each wielding a knife which gleamed in the light of the lanterns that lined the street. Her attention on the creatures behind her, the girl careened straight into me and bounced onto the ground with a surprised "Oof".

This was fortunate since she was now out of my way. I drew my sword and axe and charged, revelling as always in the destruction of evil things. 

When the six were mere bits scattered about the street, I turned my attention to the girl, who by now was on her feet and staring in amazement at the bodies.

"Miss?" I asked, drawing her eyes back to me, "Are you well?" 

The girl stared for a long moment, chest still heaving with laboured breaths, before nodding. Her eyes were wide, fearful and it occurred to me that she might be a bit frightened the bloodied weapons I held. 

I pulled a cloth from my pocket and began to clean my blades listening as words spilled from the child, spinning a frantic tale of mad cultists intent on eviscerating her in service to their master, which entity sounded much like some sort of spawn of Oblivion, or maybe a Champion like Miraak.

Suddenly hopeful, I nodded to myself. Clearly here was a fight that would keep my boredom at bay for a little while longer. And if boredom won and the dragonsouls broke free – at least the resulting damage would take place far from home. Happily, I Shouted forth Durnheviir – to the surprised and frightened cries of the girl – before turning to persuade her to mount my friend's back with me. He would provide a far swifter form of travel than walking would.

Somewhere to the west, the town of Sunnydale awaited.

~


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am a creature of legend: Dovahkiin, the Last Dragonborn. 
> 
> And I am bored.

Durnheviir's wings brought us to the west coast of the land in a matter of a few hours. The flight was delightful – one of the few things that had never bored me – and also provided the exceptional entertainment of a close run-in with a flying machine. 

The girl – Neala – had first shrieked in dismay, and then in delight as Durnheviir simply wheeled away beneath the silvery machine, well used, as are all dragons, to mid-air combat and aerobatic avoidance. Despite her excitement, I was able to calm Neala down and distract her with tales of my own world – I am a Bard after all! 

As I wove legends that were old long before I was born, I considered my young companion. Neala was clearly unused to flexibility of thinking and equally clearly had absolutely no combat training of any kind. Since it seemed she was destined for something other than a mundane life she would need to develop those skills swiftly if she hoped to survive this 'master' and its minions and thereafter survive all that her destiny might throw at her. 

As a "Chosen One" myself, I was intimately familiar with the utter bewilderment of destiny made manifest when the unfortunate "Chosen" knew only that quite horrific events were occurring around her whilst knowing nothing of why, what or how.

Fortunately, Neala's growing delight in our dragon-back flight, and the eager questions that bubbled from her, suggested that she was at least adaptable, and possessed a courageous core.

Due to Durnheviir's unique situation as a resident of the Soul Cairn, he had developed the ability to 'smell' dimensional rifts and so we swept down upon a small town beside the western sea, listening to Durnheviir's unfavourable comments upon the 'stench' that emanated from the Rift. I made a mental note to attempt to cultivate a similar sense: It would no doubt prove useful, given how much time I spent traversing portals such as those leading to the Soul Cairn and Sovngarde or visiting various planes of Oblivion. 

Descending in lazy circles gave us plenty of opportunity to see the place from the air – and indeed to see the large gathering of entities gathered upon one plot of ground outside a house. Several of those present looked up at the beat of a dragon's wings as Durnheviir's shadow swept over them, idly twisting away from the flurry of attacks launched by the more alert of the gathering. We swooped below the edge of nearby structures before anyone could aim a more deadly blow.

Durnheviir landed in an open area of parkland. He allowed us to slip down from his back and permitted me to caress his snout and murmur my thanks before he vanished back into the Soul Cairn, 

Having seen the gathering as we passed, we turned due south and began walking along the oddly empty streets. We did not, of course, know anything, then, of the truly vast numbers of persons who were even now descending on the town with the intent of wreaking havoc upon the enemy. If we had known of it – even I might have been a little concerned at the strength of an enemy that required the attention of gods to contain it and demanded that even mortal enemies set aside their differences in order to face the common foe.

As we passed beside a burial ground, three vampires leaped from behind a fence, snarling as though such a display might terrify their prey into submission. But I am a Dawnguard Hunter and such things as these have no sway over me. 

As Neala squeaked and ducked behind me, I simply drew Dawnbreaker and slashed at the middle vampire. The creature exploded instantly, the following fireball incinerating the other two moments later. As Neala gasped and then cheered, I reflected happily on the benefits of willing service to a generous Daedra and intoned my usual prayer at such times: "In Meridia's name".

Twice more as we walked, groups of vampires attempted to attack and were similarly destroyed; before a strange bipedal beast vaguely similar to a troll but covered in some sort of pus attempted to grab Neala. For her part, Neala was clearly learning some things and dived beneath the creature's arms and scurried to hide behind me. 

I had no wish to let that pus anywhere near me. As the beast turned to pursue Neala – showing a single-minded degree of stupidity which again reminded me strongly of a troll – I Shouted YOL-TOOR-SHUL and the creature shrieked as Dragonfire enveloped it. 

I was beginning to wonder about this town. Clearly it was infested with a variety of monsters – but so far they appeared tediously easy to deal with. What then was it that drew the creatures here, and why did the place require a guardian? Surely the local watch should be capable of dealing with the threats I had despatched.

Although… I now realised that not only was the town oddly quiet, but I had seen no watchmen about either.

I perked up a bit at that thought – perhaps after all the place would provide some amusement to stave off boredom if its normal protectors had abandoned the place.

Our gentle perambulation about the town eventually brought us to the house we had first seen from dragon-back. On the grassy area in front was a veritable herd of people – young girls of similar age to Neala, and a huge variety of female adults, some of whom were giving off a palpable aura of power. 

This could be amusing: Without knowledge of any of them I could see the divisions already present – groups standing apart from others, wary glances exchanged between implacable foes. I wondered how long it would be before fighting broke out amongst those gathered here. And how long after that it would be before the enemy's forces attempted to take advantage. 

When in the mood – and when not completely consumed by both tedium and my admittedly immense confidence – I can in fact be very stealthy indeed. Guiding Neala carefully, we got very close to the assembly without being noticed and thus were able to overhear snippets of conversations, commentaries, and the commanding tones of a Noblewoman decreeing the dispersal of the assembly to a larger, more defensible location outside the town. 

I am perceptive: One does not survive a state of constant conflict unless one notices even innocuous things in the area. So I saw the slight movement of the window-coverings at various rooms of the house; the silhouette of a man in an upper room, the slender shape of a young woman downstairs – and I smelled a strange mix of smoke-and-death nearby. 

That final thing attracted my attention and I drifted slowly towards the side of the house, spotting the shape of a male cloaked in shadow, a tobacco-stick glowing as he sucked upon it. A vampire, I decided; but not one that was soaked in blood the way that the others had been earlier. Or if he was, it was not a recent thing. And his demeanour was more reminiscent of a guard-dog than an enemy.

Slowly the crowd began to disperse, following the instructions provided by a woman wearing what seemed to be a militia uniform, and the Noblewoman who seemed able to command both respect and obedience without any effort at all.

I decided it was in Neala's best interests to be housed with these other young ladies and their protectors: She would be safe enough, I thought, amongst so many capable people, and might learn useful skills pertaining to her future Destiny – which would free me to take the war to the enemy's door. 

I am Dovahkiin and Dragons do not play well with others. 

~


End file.
